


Things We Call Ourselves

by waterofthemoon



Series: Unleash the Chaos (The FSU Jacket Zine) [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Praise Kink (Good Omens), Crowley Submits to the Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known (Good Omens), Crowley's Orange Jacket (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:22:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29686002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterofthemoon/pseuds/waterofthemoon
Summary: Aziraphale gets Crowley to wear his hi-vis jacket (and only his jacket), then proceeds to make sure he knows what a very, verygooddemon he is. Crowley likes it more than he'd like to admit.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Unleash the Chaos (The FSU Jacket Zine) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2174112
Comments: 5
Kudos: 81
Collections: Unleash The Chaos - Zine Fics and Art





	Things We Call Ourselves

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second of two explicit fics I wrote for Unleash the Chaos, the zine dedicated to Crowley's FSU jacket! Being part of this chaos was a total blast - thanks so much to the mods and my fellow contributors! 💖

In London's Mayfair, in a penthouse flat, a demon is having the time of his life getting reproached by an angel.

"Oh, you're a very bad demon, aren't you?" Aziraphale circles the bed where Crowley's sprawled out, dressed in his hi-vis jacket and nothing else—Aziraphale insisted. "I ought to tie you down and smite you to teach you a lesson."

Crowley flutters his eyelashes. "Is that a promise?"

"Well." Aziraphale stops, clearly flustered, and bites his lip. "That depends. Is that something you'd want? I wouldn't really smite you, of course; we certainly don't want a discorporation on our hands. But I could—"

"Angel." Crowley can't help the laugh that spills out with the endearment. He holds up a hand to cut Aziraphale off. "We can talk about it later, yeah?"

Aziraphale gives him a sheepish smile. "Yes, of course. Just got excited."

"C'mon." Crowley wriggles impatiently, enjoying the swishing sound of the nylon fabric and the way his bare skin slides across it. "Tell me I'm bad again."

"Very bad demon," Aziraphale says again. Still half-dressed in his trousers and shirtsleeves, he crawls on top of Crowley and begins sucking on his neck, pushing the collar of the jacket aside. "Horrid. Absolutely _reprehensible_ —but so clever," he adds. "And kind, and sexy, and gorgeous…."

Crowley wonders if he ought to get Aziraphale back on track. Between his ego being stroked and the absolutely electrifying things Aziraphale's doing with his mouth on Crowley's throat and collarbones, though, he can't be bothered to mind. He ruts up into Aziraphale's pelvis, trying to get some friction going. The press of him against Aziraphale's zipper seems to do the job of getting his attention anyway.

"Oh, and what's this?" Aziraphale reaches between them and grasps Crowley's cock, fondles him root to tip. "Very eager, too, I see. Quite shameless."

"Aziraphale," Crowley growls. The hand around him tightens, and he feels teeth press into his neck before Aziraphale sits up and fixes him with a gaze that radiates love, but also angelic power that Crowley would be a fool to try to cross.

"I want you to fuck me," Aziraphale says, "with that gorgeous, eager, _wicked_ cock of yours. I'm going to sit on you, and I want to feel every inch of it inside me. And I don't want you to try any sneaky moves, I know you're already thinking about it." He pinches Crowley's flank—it's probably supposed to be a deterrent, but Crowley's so into him, it just makes him consider how he can egg Aziraphale on more.

When Aziraphale tries to move away to get his kit off, Crowley pulls back him down flush against him and thoroughly explores his mouth, rolling his hips lewdly as his tongue slides between Aziraphale's lips. It's a few minutes before Aziraphale drags himself away long enough to break the kiss. Crowley just smirks in response to Aziraphale's narrowed eyes.

"Can't help it that I'm good at my job, angel." With Aziraphale still on top of him, Crowley pulls himself up so he can murmur in Aziraphale's ear. "And I am very, _very_ good."

Aziraphale shivers and rocks down against him. "Oh, my dear. I know _exactly_ how good you can be."

Crowley lets him go, then, so Aziraphale can finish undressing. Braces, shirt, trousers, sock garters, and all the rest of it has to go. Before the first time he watched Aziraphale in his current attire get naked, Crowley had never considered just how many _straps_ would be involved—now he appreciates the undoing of them every time.

Finally, Aziraphale stands before him, pink and nude. His cunt glistens with how wet it is, and Crowley's suddenly, wildly desperate for Aziraphale to ride him. Then he wants to eat Aziraphale out and suck his own spend out of him, and then he wants to do it all over again.

" _Fuck_ ," Crowley says. He's sure Aziraphale can read how much he's wanted in the way Crowley's not blinking at all for fear of missing him, in the clench of Crowley's empty hands in the sleeves of his jacket, in his red, erect cock framed by skinny hips and dark blue nylon. "Talk about gorgeous. You're it."

"Flatterer." A flush spreads from Aziraphale's face down over his chest. "That's another word for you. Charmer. Tempter."

"'S not flattery, it's true," Crowley insists. "And I'm not tempting right now—unless you want me to be?" He rolls over onto his side and strikes a pose he saw in a nudie calendar once. A succubus, he thinks idly, would say he's being too obvious.

Aziraphale laughs and climbs on the bed. "What about ridiculous?"

"That's you as well," Crowley says, grinning. Their mouths meet in a wet, filthy kiss, and he remembers all over again just how much he wants to fuck Aziraphale. "C'mon, get up here. You wanted me inside you, didn't you? Fill that lovely quim up with all this demonic cock…."

He trails a hand down Aziraphale's body as he talks, culminating in him teasing two fingers at Aziraphale's slit. Aziraphale bats him away and kisses his lips again to soothe the sting.

"Impatient," Aziraphale says, even though he's just as bad and they both know it. He proves that by pushing Crowley flat on his back, head supported by the pillows, and straddling his thighs. "And very, very… shall we say… _cocky_?"

Aziraphale's eyes twinkle with the pun. Crowley growls again.

"I'll _show_ you cocky if you ever—" Crowley's cut off by Aziraphale rising up and guiding Crowley's cock to his hole, then taking all of Crowley inside him in one swift, fluid motion. "Oh, fuck, fuck me, angel, that's so good."

"No, darling," Aziraphale says. He rises up and rolls his hips down again, dragging himself over Crowley's cock, letting Crowley feel how hot and wet he is inside. "Fuck _me_."

Despite that, Aziraphale ends up doing most of the work. In this position, Crowley's no match for Aziraphale's determination and core strength, and that's so hot that he doesn't even want to try to be. He grinds up into him the best he can but mostly just lies there and lets his Aziraphale-flooded senses overtake him: the heft of his body and all those beautiful curves, the way his hair glows in the low lights of Crowley's bedroom, the slippery tightness of his cunt contracting around Crowley's cock and driving him toward his climax a lot faster than he wants.

Crowley's overheating in the jacket he's still wearing, but even that feels good, like having sex in a sauna. Like he can feel Aziraphale's touch in the beads of sweat and the way the jacket wraps around his shoulders.

Aziraphale leans over and pulls Crowley up into a sitting position by the arms, those strong hands of his sliding over the nylon fabric. "Crowley," he moans. "I'm close. Kiss me."

Crowley's only too happy to respond. He slams his mouth against Aziraphale's and gets his hand down between Aziraphale's legs to rub his swollen clit. Aziraphale bucks into his touch and grinds down, taking Crowley even deeper inside himself. With the new angle, Crowley's better able to thrust up into him, and he takes full advantage of it, bouncing Aziraphale in his lap.

"Oh, you fiend," Aziraphale groans. He clenches down around Crowley's cock and cants into Crowley's fingers still working between his legs.

"There's—oh, fuck—there's another one for the list." Crowley wraps his other arm around Aziraphale's back to pull him closer. His jacket, the whole front of it, presses against Aziraphale. When he glances down, the end of his water-repellent sleeve is damp with Aziraphale's slick and rubbing against his skin there, and Aziraphale's not complaining.

If anything, Aziraphale gets even more insistent when Crowley's rhythm falters at the sight of it. Crowley lets him take charge once more, and Aziraphale urges them on in rolling deep thrusts that have him gasping and shaking apart in Crowley's arms as his orgasm moves through him. The pulsing clenches of Aziraphale's cunt around his cock, combined with the gushing of Aziraphale's fluids onto his jacket and thigh, are too much for Crowley to resist; he fucks Aziraphale through his aftershocks and comes minutes later, spilling up into him.

" _Perfect_ ," Aziraphale whispers into his ear. Crowley can't even find it in himself to be huffy that Aziraphale got the last word.

Eventually, they peel themselves apart. Aziraphale helps Crowley strip off the sweaty, stained jacket, which Crowley discards on the floor—a problem for future him—before cleaning up the two of them and the bedclothes with a miracle. They curl up together in the middle of the bed, skin to skin.

"Why do you like that thing, anyway?" Crowley blurts out.

Aziraphale frowns thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose—"

"I mean, I know why I like it," Crowley says, unable to stop the words from spilling out. "I look cool. I get in places where people really don't want me to be. No one bothers me if I don't want them to. But why do _you_?"

He holds his breath waiting for Aziraphale's answer, which is suddenly intensely important to him. Aziraphale seems to sense it, too, and pauses a moment before answering.

"I must admit, it's partly because of how dashing and confident you look. The 'bad boy' aesthetic, as they say." Aziraphale doesn't do the air quotes, but Crowley hears them anyway. "But I also like… hmmm. I like that you feel protected by it. I like you feeling safe, and I like that wearing it on the job allows you to follow your creative impulses to their full potential and still get home unharmed."

Crowley buries his face in Aziraphale's shoulder, even though Aziraphale can probably still feel the tears springing to his eyes. "You make me feel safe," he mumbles into Aziraphale's skin, because he's now turned this into heartfelt confessions hour. "You inspire my creativity. You protect me."

Aziraphale strokes Crowley's hair and kisses his temple, and Crowley burrows a little closer. "My dear," he says, as tenderly as Crowley's ever heard it. "We do that for each other. The feeling is very, very mutual."

With that seemingly settled, Aziraphale pulls Crowley into his arms so Crowley can nestle into his chest, which Crowley does. He drifts off, listening to Aziraphale's heartbeat and thinking about the two of them as an unstoppable duo, ready to face anything together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! You can find me on Tumblr as [@waterofthemoon](https://waterofthemoon.tumblr.com).


End file.
